Take These Broken Wings_A novel of the Paramortals

by Livia Quinn

  He ran his thumb across the brass shield and this time the emotion was plain. It was what he wanted. No, needed. In a world where so many things were new, this he was sure of, a job, a persona that fit him like a second skin. It wasn't an acceptance of his new nature, but it was a step in the right direction. He was setting his reservations aside temporarily.

  Montana and Rafe left to transport the ME and victim's remains to the coroner's office in Destiny. Dashing my hope that Jack would ride back to town with me, Ryan got in on the passenger side of the SUV, leaving Jack to look across the trunk at me. It was just the two of us and yet Jack didn't try to kiss me, touch me or even come close enough to. His hands were in his pockets as he gazed down the levee road. "I'll uh… I've got to go…" he backed up then turned and got into his unit.

  I couldn't help it. His inability to come up with something to say to me, the person he supposedly loved… Zeus, but it hurt. Under my breath I said, "I'll see you, I guess." I felt so alone suddenly and so disconnected from him. Turning away, the pain almost doubled me over. Was our relationship over before it had even begun?

  The door slammed and they turned around on the flat ground nearby, tires spinning in the mud for a second before Jack shoved it into four-wheel-drive and it shot forward. I watched them drive away, both sets of eyes looking back at me in the mirrors. Well, at least that was something.

  Walking toward my truck, which was half a mile away, I sensed a presence matching my pace. It wasn't threatening but familiar—in fact, it was our family familiar, Marty, the imp.

  Marty had some favorite manifestations, Pomeranian, leprechaun, weenie dog. But today, he was dressed in a cowboy hat and boots that were way too big for his skinny little legs. They reached past his wrinkly knees under chaps complete with studs and a dual set of six guns crisscrossed over his chest. They couldn't be real could they?

  He looked like one of Clint's enemies in the Good the Bad and the Uuguly, if one of those villains had been two-feet tall with wrinkly skin the color of Louisiana gumbo. I was about to ask why he chose that particular persona but he stretched up to me, making me lean down to get closer and his hushed words pushed those thoughts right out of my head.

  "Tempe, River's back."

  I locked eyes with him and he took a cautious step back. I didn't care if he was an imp or the armed villain he resembled, if he didn't tell me the whereabouts of my little brother, I was going to do something he'd regret. I'd practically raised River while our parents were absent and then last Spring he'd been kidnapped and almost died. After we rescued him, my father had swooped him away to some unknown location for healing and I hadn't seen him in months.

  I took one step toward Marty. He took one back. "Now, Tempest… don't lose your cool. I wasn't even supposed tell you…"

  Wrong thing to say. My eyes flared. The sky darkened. Thunder rolled under our feet and my vision blurred as menori tapped into the extreme August heat. The wind rose up fast threatening to burst out of me. Yes, I could let loose and lay waste to the few bushes and trees in this deserted part of the levee, but I really have more control (forget my earlier faux pas) now that the cat was out of the bag, so to speak. Menori was the cat, and the bag, the wealth of atmospheric elements at my fingertips. Think of the greatest disasters over time, the great tsunami in Indonesia, the Anchorage earthquake, Katrina, Sandy. Now imagine that power available to me. Well, not yet, but I could create quite a stir on a local level at least.

  I peered down at Marty and allowed the power to build. His wide eyes told me he was seeing the streaks of lightning in my eyes, images of historic disasters floating in my rainbow streaked hair, while it flailed around my head like bright waves. I held the power steady, now that I had his attention.

  His face was puckered up with worry. He couldn't leave because he was essentially at my command. For the first time since I'd known Marty, his eyes reflected fear—of me. I didn't think I would hurt him, but maybe he should start talking.

  "What do you mean you weren't supposed to tell me yet?" That statement was what had triggered menori's reaction. For most of my life I'd been kept in the dark about too much. Now, when someone kept something from me, it rankled, reminding me of the betrayal of my friends, family, even my "lover" Dylan McGinnis.

  It was not going to happen again. When I spoke, my voice sounded a little like a freight train before the tornado hits your house in the middle of the night. I couldn't do anything about that. I allowed it to build until Marty squeezed his hands over his ears. Then I screamed through our mindlink into his head, What do you mean, you weren't supposed to tell me?

  The imp was quivering now. If I'd still been more Tempe then Tempestaerie I might have cared, but I was not going to be denied. I extended my hand palm up toward the black thunderclouds and a streak of lightning—a teensy little bolt of my power—flashed from the tattoo on my fingertip to the ground between Marty's bowed legs.

  "Eeek!" He squeaked and whimpered, "It's not me. Not me."

  "Then who?" My voice boomed and I aimed my finger at him again, my eyes stormy. His little wrinkly body snapped from quivering to frozen, eyes locked on something over my shoulder. I knew who was there before I turned, power crackling from my fists.

  "Hiding things from me again, Dutch?"

  Chapter 6

  Did genies have bellybuttons?

  Tempe

  The sigh that escaped my father nearly blew me over and would've rolled Marty into the next parish but he'd taken the opportunity to go wherever imps go when they await their master's command. In this case, now that Big Djinni Dude was back in town, little old me didn't command squat.

  Emotions hit me like giant waves pounding the California coast, love foremost. And despite how I tried to hide it, it poured from me as a steady Amazonian-like rain. It had been building for nineteen years. Once I got past their duplicity and understood my parents' reasons for what they'd done, I'd had been waiting for an opening to restore our bond.

  "So, we're back to that again, are we?" Dutch boomed. My father, the most powerful djinn in existence, or so he said, stood above me, his massive bronze arms crossed, electric blue and copper eyes warm with laughter. "Next time you call me that, I'm going to spank you."

  He was a massive column of "man" like a Monday Night Raw champion amplified for IMAX. Everything about him exuded strength, engendered fear, but not in me. I breathed out a vortex of wind and rose above him, looking down and grinning, "You can try, Papa."

  He threw back his full head of streaked red hair and laughter boomed from his barrel chest, the sound bouncing off clouds, sending birds flying and small creatures scampering. He held out his arms to me. I was still in "beast mode" as Jack called it when I ran to him and let him surround me with his giant embrace. The storm quieted and once again, I felt like his little girl. Memories of our eccentric family picnics by the Forge in the middle of the night, in order to disguise all the storm throwing and fire making, came back to me in a rush.

  I rubbed my cheek against his belly. "Could you dial down your genie a bit, Papa?" His satisfaction was an electric vibration against my cheek. Gradually I realized my head was no longer against his bellybutton.

  I leaned back still cradled in his arms and studied him. His burnished copper skin and bright verdigris colored eyes had been passed down to my brother. I got the rainbow hair. "So tell me about River," I said. "And how you knew Marty told me about—" I shook my head. "Forget it. Somehow you just know."

  He chuckled which sounded more like boulders rolling down a mountain. "These things a wise Djinni keeps to himself, daughter."

  "I'm not a teenager taking the car out for my first drive, Du—Papa."

  He gave me a huge bear hug. "Ah, but you are still my little girl and this new power of yours is very much like driving with your learning permit. Allow me to protect you, while I can, daughter." He set me away from him so we could be eye to eye. "You will remember, River is alive and well, Tempe. His power has been restored, but he's
not the Djinni of his youth."

  What did that mean? I frowned. "What aren't you telling me?"

  He squinted overhead. I followed his gaze to a hundred tiny clouds dotting the sky like cotton balls. Fluffy…round…and so many lined up across the clear blue expanse… one disappeared, and another. Within seconds they faded, then blinked out, one… by… one.

  "Beautiful aren't they?" Papa said and I dragged my attention back to my him. "What?" I shook my head, disoriented. "Did you answer my question?" I asked rubbing my temple.

  "Yes. I told you we are back to stay, not that we won't take a jaunt every now and then."

  I frowned. I was missing something but hard as I tried I couldn't remember what it was. It wasn't about River because he was alive and well and his power had been restored. Dutch's smile was nimble and happy, amazing since he was thousands of years old, maybe a thousand centuries old.

  Relieved that our family was going to be together again, more or less, I vowed to encourage more family get togethers.

  "Phoebe and I have some catching up to do after so much time away from each other so we're taking a little honeymoon."

  That got my attention, and delight. "Oh yeah?" It was true. For almost two decades they had stayed apart to protect River and me. It'd been so long since I'd seen my parents interacting on a personal level, I couldn't quite grasp the idea.

  He cleared his throat, "Your mother and I were wondering how things are going with you and your sheriff? Have there been any developments?"

  A burst of laughter escaped as I stepped away from him. "You could say that. Where have you been?"

  "Around…" He smiled innocently. I knew better, there wasn't an "innocent" bone in that big Djinn body.

  I exhaled and said, "Jack turned into a dragon after the Para-moon and… you could say he's not handling it well." I ran my fingers through my hair.

  Dutch rubbed his smooth jaw thoughtfully, eyes narrowed. Maybe he hadn't known. "Interesting." His eyebrows lifted, "Don't look at me like that, Tempest. We don't have a psychic connection with dragons and remember, a Paramortal's essence isn't recognizable until they change. What kind of dragon is he?"

  "What kind?" I asked surprised. "You mean like black, flying, fire-breathing? If so…" I sighed, "He's beautiful, like crystals shining in the sun, but he thinks he's useless… as he put it…a useless girly dragon. And he's on leave from the sheriff's office which makes him a very unhappy man."

  He plucked my hand up, his big hand cradling it next to his chest and said, "And that makes my baby unhappy. I am sorry, Tempe, but these things have a way of working out." Dutch's warmth surrounded me again. I burrowed into his chest. "Look at you. You tried to resist your heritage, but that's why the hour of awakening is called the Vyal K'allanti. It is the hand of fate." His voice rumbled on, "Don't worry about the choices you or your man have made, daughter, embrace them. You meet your fate on the road you take to avoid them."

  He settled my head onto his shoulder and huffed. "Life will not remain the same, people won't and certainly not Destiny. And by the way," he leaned back and smiled, "there are no useless dragons." He rolled a red curl around his finger. "That would be…what do you call it…a paradox? Now, I must go. Your mother said to tell you she loves you."

  And with that last sally he left, rising into a cloud and disappearing into the ether. I'd forgotten how cool it was to watch him just lift away like so much smoke, his image expanding like a helium version of himself and then fading. Would I be able to do that someday? He'd told me I inherited some of his fire after we broke through the walls of that cabin and rescued River.

  Where was River? I wanted to see him, touch him. Sighing, I relaxed my shoulders. At least he was alive and healthy. I looked around at my surroundings. I'd been on my way to my mail truck when Dutch showed up and… why, had he come exactly? Oh, yeah, to tell me about their little honeymoon.

  I had time to kill so I decided to run by Aurora's. Her shop was closed on Sunday but she would be there marking merchandise or doing whatever else owners do. I should be spending the day with my boyfriend, but that wasn't happenin'. Worried, I wondered if Montana was right. Maybe I was allowing the men in my life to leave for some reason. What was it going to take for me to turn that around?

  Chapter 7

  Impossible. Not my species!

  Kat

  Obsidian eyes watched over me as I slept giving me a feeling of safety and comfort I hadn't experienced in years. A strong chest rose with each inhale against my back, the breath pulsing against my ear. It wasn't just comfort and warmth; for the first time since I could remember, I longed for more in a relationship, someone to share the lonely dark nights.

  Lonely because of my past… I'd had to leave everyone and everything behind two years ago. I couldn't risk those I loved, either friends or family, to the evil that had propelled me into the dark.

  Dark because I'm half vampire—not something I chose and it didn't complement my shifter side. I'd mutated from a beautiful tawny panther to a large black panther. Worse than that, during the Chaos I'd grown into a full blown African lion and tried to attack Dylan after we made love.

  Nights—because of what happened to me before coming to Destiny, night is my daytime. I work for the Destiny Tribune, archiving their dailies from years past, and do a little financial planning online for special clients.

  Unfamiliar emotions flooded me as my lover's heat curled against my back, his breath feathering my neck. I'd missed this. The object pressing against my backside was hard, proving he desired me, and I wiggled my butt against him. He licked my ear. Once again, his hot breath reached my cheek. My eyes opened. There was a sliver of light through the curtain.

  He stretched the length of my body, his arm reaching over my shoulder, and a large furry paw flopped into view.

  I blinked, regretfully. I'd been dreaming. Harsh reality intruded as the panting got heavier. Dylan was awake.

  Okay, this was weird. "Down, boy." A whine came from behind me as he snuggled closer. It wasn't as weird as it should be with me a large predatory cat curled up next to her enemy, a big wolf. I rolled out of bed.

  My former lover, Dylan McGinnis, was now a very handsome, very protective, black wolf, and he'd taken over my bed as if he belonged there. Maybe some part of his wolf brain still remembered making love with me here. It was hard to say since he'd shown nothing but canine tendencies since our friends had saved his life. Unfortunately, neither the tall, dark, dangerous and sexy man nor his shifter had emerged from the healing waters of the Forge when the wolf pup did.

  For the last couple months he'd been a fickle, disloyal, tail-chasing hound dog. If it hadn't been for his friends and me, he might have wound up road kill or gator grub by now. He had no common sense when he was on the scent of a prissy bitch in heat.

  I nudged him awake and dark eyes that looked oddly more human than canine bore into mine. I felt the bump against my hip again. Bast's whiskers, Dylan! But the goddess couldn't help me with this.

  "Down, boy. It's time to go out." For the first time in months, it sounded strange to me, remembering how Dylan had risen from bed in man form to go outside and do exactly what I was ordering his wolf to do. The difference was if I didn't put a leash on the wolf, he'd take off looking for a cheap hook up. If we ever get him back to man form, he will have left a hundred little half-wolf pups around Destiny. Uhh! I did not want to think about that. It was a distressing thought as his former lover.

  But this morning, instead of darting away from me and resisting the leash, he rose to his full height and sat down in the center of the bed. I was eye level with his wolfie face as I stood on the floor of my remodeled hearse. He was over hundred-seventy-five pounds and made quite a dent in my tiny living space. Making no effort to get down or runoff, he just stared at me like I should understand what he was thinking. I felt a whisper of… attraction… well, maybe not, but there was a link from his eyes to my solar plexis. Impossible. Not my species…

&nbs
p; I spread my hands palms up. "What?"

  His head tilted as if he was sure I'd get it if he waited long enough. I'd had a dog as a kid. We never did get along. I could never convince him to speak cat. This felt like that. I threw up my hands. "Do you want to go out? Are you hungry? Thirsty? What?"

  His big head lowered and he growled, not in a fierce these are the teeth I'm going to eat you with kind of way. It was more like a sound of frustration.

  "I'm sorry. I can't read your wolfie mind." His haunches lifted effortlessly and he walked to the edge of the bed where I stood, touched his wet nose to my cheek where my cat whiskers would have been, just for a second and whined. A shiver went through me and not from fear. He wasn't threatening me. Eyes closed he trailed his muzzle down along my neck, slowly—intimately.

  What the—Bast!—was he caressing me? He turned his head and rubbed his ears and thick dark coat against my chest and abdomen then his nose rooted under my hand. He didn't give up until I lifted my hands to his fur, my nails pushing through it to his skin. What was this, some kind of cross species hug? Or was the man inside Dylan's wolf trying to connect with me? Oh, goddess, I prayed it was so.

  He whined as if, enjoying my touch, he wanted more, then he reached up to nip my shoulder. There was an instinctive reaction from my panther. She snarled but didn't shift as she would if she'd been offended. With my hands on his neck, I looked deep into those penetrating eyes. "What's happening here, Dylan?"

  He sat down on his haunches abruptly and I swear his shoulders slumped as he sighed. Then a bark sounded through the walls of the hearse and he bounded off the bed. Manwhore. He didn't wait for me to get the leash. Instead, he used his paws to press the handle on the door, threw his bulk against the makeshift screen and launched himself out into the morning after another one of his endless supply of females. So much for a connection.